#earlypregnancyunit

Thursday 11th April

The day before at work another unexpected bout of cramps had begun. I felt unwell with it while at work, so on Thursday morning I took the pregnancy test a day early.... positive.

I spent the whole morning from 7.45am trying to contact the EPU and becoming more upset after each message left on their answerphone. Mark needed to get into London for work that day and fortunately my Mum was able to drive over to be with me.

Mark did manage to speak to someone via the Ward triage line at one point that morning, but was advised the Duty Triage Nurse wouldn’t be starting her shift until 10am.

My Mum-in-law to be was working at the hospital again that week, still with a Consultant a few doors along from the EPU. Little did I know, but at midday Christine went along to the unit and spoke to the Manager.... I received a call a few minutes later!!!

So, the outcome of the call was they needed me to have a scan and booked me in initially for 10.20am the next morning, Friday 13th April. However, I received another call shortly after to say they had found a slot for this afternoon and I needed to get to the hospital ASAP. Not in any fit state to drive, Mum of course took me there.

We arrived at the Women’s Clinic and all around us were a lot of women with their files and growing bumps, excited to see more pictures of their babies. I too looked pregnant, thanks to the bloatedness but looking down it just made me feel even more sadness, wishing that our little one had made it.

I was called in by Jenny, the sonographer I had seen before at the EPU. Jenny advised that EVERYTHING was still in place and the medical management, as I had feared, had not been successful. I didn’t expect to hear that literally everything was still there.... I was still carrying our little one 7 weeks after they died.

After the scan, I returned with Mum to the EPU where options were discussed. The best plan of action appeared to be the d&c now. The surgical removal of the products of conception. Wow.

Wednesday 21st March 2018

Our first scan was on St Patrick’s Day, 17th March 2018. It was meant to be an exciting day, at 9 weeks, seeing our little one for the first time.

I won’t forget Wobble Wednesday. I’m a Psychological Therapist, I should know how to communicate and manage my emotions, but I suddenly felt overwhelmed and lost. That day I felt so upset and angry, I lashed out at my Family. Yet they seemed to forgive me, and along with Mark, my unwavering 6 foot gentle giant, continued to show love and support. I wouldn’t have been able to get through today without them all. Nor without the support of close friends, especially one who has herself experienced miscarriage not once, but twice. The pain of revisiting those memories for my friend, but also my Mum and my Mum-in-law to be. A strange and mean coincidence that my Parents miscarriage was merely a week different, in the March, 39 years apart. I hadn’t ever felt able to ask my Mum about it before. I’m wondering why I hadn’t felt able to ask her about it before. Why is it unspoken?

This past week waiting for our second scan has been the longest and most painful ever. Today, 23rd March, the hospital confirmed a missed miscarriage.

I’ll be forever grateful for the quickness and efficiency of Jenny the sonographer, who didn’t prolong the pain of waiting for the results and confirming what we feared ... no development.

It was the complete shock of absolutely no warning signs, no forewarning that something was wrong, and we had lost our little one.

I’d not heard of a missed miscarriage before, nor did I know that 1 in 4 pregnancies will result in miscarriage. It’s truly shocking.

I was in awe of the amazing care from the kind and professional staff at the Early Pregnancy Unit. Sister Lesley who calmly took my numerous scribbled notes of dates and facts that I had felt so pertinent to share, then clearly explained all the treatment options; Auxillary Jane who persevered and so gently took my blood from my challengingly small veins; and Staff Nurse Mandy who took such good care of me when it came to implementing the medical management.

Our little one was so cruelly taken away, but will never ever be forgotten. We will always remember them, the date of losing them etched in our memories forever.

One thing I’ve learnt already, is that I really do want to become a mother and feel ready to be. The fear I felt before seems to have melted somewhat, disappearing with the second wave of the Beast from the East. So, when Mark and I are ready, I guess the conception vitamins will recommence... along with reactivating the app to chart my cycle... and we will see what the future may bring for us.